


Well Bugger Me…

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2012, Age Regression/De-Aging, Challenges, Fluff, Gen, Spells & Enchantments, spn-reversebang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a plan. It involves a witch and it involves Gabriel.  Dean knows from that combination alone that this isn't a good plan, but he and Cas are dragged along regardless as unwilling accomplices.  Dean hates witches. He's not that keen on Gabriel either.  It's a good job he likes kids though. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Bugger Me…

Dean had no idea at what point _any_ of this seemed like a good idea. 

Talking to a goddamn witch?  Only his little brother could come up with such a monumentally stupid plan.   Why he’d ever agreed to go along with it he can’t imagine but it must have had something to do with the beer and tequila.

And then Gabriel had turned up.  Really?  Gabriel.  Hell, he’d laid into Sam for that one.  He was fairly sure there’d been nothing he’d agreed to that involved Gabriel.  Ever.  No matter how much beer and tequila Sam forced him to drink.  Okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly forced him, but some of it had to be Sam’s fault.  It always was.

“He’ll help, Dean.”  Sam’s little pleady voice had said, with his big puppy-dog eyes, and Dean had caved like any big brother would.  Of course he had.  Bad idea.  Really bad idea.

And Dean had forgotten he’d called Cas and asked him to help out with the witch.  Of course, that was before he knew about Gabriel.  He thought Cas was going to bale when he turned up, ‘cause when he saw Gabriel he got a seriously smitey face on but for some reason he stayed and Dean was just attributing that to sheer cussedness.

The net effect was one of the most unbelievably badly conceived road trips of all time.

“Gabriel, if you get any of my baby’s upholstery covered in sticky goo with that frigging lollipop, I will personally get Sam to beat you to a pulp.”  Because, hell, Dean wasn’t stupid.  He knew it hurt to hit an angel.  And it was all Sam’s fault they were here in the first place, after all.

“Why is he even _here_?”  Cas stares resolutely forward, not really looking at anything because he’s putting all his efforts into not-looking at the person he’s sharing the back seat of the Impala with.

Dean grunts sympathetically from the driver’s seat. “Don’t look at me, Cas.  Sam thought he’d be helpful.  I’m totally with you on this one, dude.”

 “I will help, bro.  I’m wounded that you don’t want me here.”

“This is a simple witch.  We don’t need your help.  Sam, why is he _here_?  Can’t we send him away?”

“Sorry, Cas.  He does know this witch personally.”

“That in itself should give you a bad feeling about this, Sam.  _Gabriel!_ Stop it!”

“Not me, Cas.  Look, no hands.”  Gabriel waves his hands innocently in the air, but the twinkle in his eye is suggesting he doesn’t need hands for what he’s doing.

“Stop _it_!”

Dean grips the steering wheel tighter.  “Gabriel.  Whatever you’re doing to him, stop it!  I swear I will stop the car and you can both walk there!”

“Fly.”

“What?”

“We wouldn’t walk, we’d fly.” 

God give him strength.  Though so far, that particular prayer hadn’t worked out so well.

When they get to the house, the witch eyes them warily, watching Gabriel.  Dean doesn’t know what line Gabriel has spun Sam but it’s not looking to Dean like there’s a whole lot of trust and friendship there and Dean is keeping one hand on his gun and Cas’ smiting fingers are twitching.  This would be the point, in Dean’s opinion, for what it’s worth, which right now seems not a lot, that they just revert to Plan A…kill the bastard.  But oh, no.  Sam has his _Plan_ , with a capital ‘P’ and in italics and probably comes with damned air quotes.

Dean saunters up, all bravado ‘cause God, he hates witches, “Just us and the kids back there.  We just want to talk, okay?”  In hindsight, Dean wouldn’t have mentioned ‘kids’ if he’d known it would give the witch ideas.  But hindsight is a wonderful thing and how the hell was he supposed to know?

The witch nodded and they talked.  Gabriel animated, Cas a stubborn, sulky look on his face, Sam hopeful, and Dean bored and wondering if it wouldn’t just be _quicker_ to ice the guy now.  I mean, seriously.  Witch, right?

It looks like they might have to do that anyway.  Dean flicks his attention back to the group when Gabriel and the witch start getting agitated, voices rising, and Sam and Cas both stiffen as they notch up the tension meter a scale or two.  Dean’s hand goes back to his gun and he figures he better get back with the program because this is just about to go so wrong!

The goddamn witch actually laughs when Gabriel turns his back on him in disgust, arms shrugging up, “I tried.  No reasoning with the guy.  I’m off.  You coming, Cas?”  And oh, right, that’s Gabriel.  Fuck everything up then snap your fingers and bale and leave them to clean up after him.  This was so not a good idea.  And has he mentioned this is all Sam’s fault?

Gabe didn’t even give Cas a chance to say ‘no, fuck off, Gabriel’, not that he would actually say that, in quite those words but Dean just knew that’s what he’d be thinking, before Gabriel snapped his fingers to disappear to some angel teashop or wherever it is they go when they’re not annoying, him, Dean.  But it seemed the teashop was going to have to wait, because Dean was fairly sure Gabe hadn’t intended this.  He stared at the two winged angels in front of him.  Or rather he stared at the two winged angels somewhere around level with his knees.

“Crap.  What’d you do?”  He just knows the witch has something to do with this and he is so going to end him, but then Sam’s got a hand on his arm holding him back and he turns to Sam instead and Dean’s seriously pissed, and maybe it comes out in his voice, and maybe he doesn’t care. “What, Sam?”

“Dean, if you kill him, how do we get them back?”  and he’s earnest and sincere and freaking right and that’s the worst part.

“Turn them back.” Dean growls at the witch, knowing he doesn’t have a single bargaining chip.

“Sorry, I can’t.  But don’t worry.  They’ll be back to themselves by midnight.  In the meantime, thanks for the chat.  Adios, boys” and the witch disappears in a flash of orange smoke.  Dean just knew it would be orange.  He hates orange.  Crap.

[ ](http://ljunattainable.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/325/267)

The skinny angel with the mop of the thickest dark hair Dean’s ever seen, promptly sits down on his bottom, weighed down by a suit and trenchcoat that were too big in what passed for their normal world let alone this weird-shit one they’ve ended up in now. 

The other looks as if he’s going to bawl any second, but then follows suit, ending up on his chubby bottom, one hand wrapped round a bunch of black feathers in his brother’s wing, the other gripping the leg of Dean’s jeans with…fuck…with a hand covered in lollipop goo.   _Pink_ lollipop goo.

Dean turns to Sam ready to clock him, because, honestly this is all his frigging fault “Now what, Genius?”

“Um…”

“Thanks, Sam.  Helpful.”

“So I guess we just need to look after them for a few hours?”  Dean doesn’t like the way Sam turns that into a question.  Except, thinking about it, maybe they could look after themselves.  How much trouble could two little angels get up to in … he looked at his watch … 14 hours?  Except they don’t look like they could look after themselves; ‘cause they’re not going anywhere and they’re clinging to Dean’s legs like they’re scared he’s going to run out on them.  And it’s got to be said, the thought briefly crossed his mind, that they are fairly adorable; but only briefly because he is not going to analyze where that one has come from, and he’s absolutely going to deny it if anyone asks.

“Why can we see their wings?”  Sam asks, head turning to one side to look down at them as if they’re some kind of weird-ass science experiment.

“How do I know.  Do I look like some angel nanny?”

Sam goes in to prod at what is obviously Gabe with his toe and what the hell’s that all about?  “What’re you doing?”  Dean gets round and steps in front of them, in Sam’s way, body blocking little Gabe and Cas from his giant of a brother.  So what if Sam gives him a funny look.

“Yeah, okay, Mom.  I’m not going to touch your brood.”  Dean strongly suspects that’s a smirk on Sam’s face as he backs off.  “So, what now, Dean?”

“Motel.” Dean leans down and picks up Gabe, indicating to Sam he should do the same with Cas, but before Dean’s turned and gone 2 steps towards the Impala… with frigging lollipop goo on the collar of his shirt now and he doesn’t think he’s got another clean one…the sniffling, turning to little mewls threatening sobbing and screaming to come makes him turn round to see what the hell Sam’s doing to little Cas, and okay he’s not doing anything wrong as such, but he’s not doing anything right, holding him round the middle like a sack of flour while Cas kicks his little feet losing both ridiculously huge socks in the process, the shoes long gone, and stretches out trenchcoat-swamped skinny little arms with little cries of “Dean.”   Sam’s starting to panic which is pretty funny all things considered given that witches and werewolves and vampires don’t do it but cute toddler-Cas is making his brother look like he’s just gonna drop him and run.

“Jeez, Sam, give him here.  Don’t you have any idea about kids.”

“And you do?”

“I did okay with you, didn’t I?”

Sam doesn’t go so far as to agree with Dean, of course, but is more than happy when Dean takes Cas in his free arm and as soon as Dean has Cas propped on one arm Cas stops crying, and snuggles into Dean’s chest.  What with Gabe putting sticky fingers in Dean’s ear on the other side, it suddenly strikes him; how the hell’s he going to drive?

Of course, they have to get back to the motel with Sam driving, and he drives like a grandma.  And Dean’s got lollipop goo over his upholstery anyway so Gabe’s gonna clean that up tomorrow, no question.  And the little bastards won’t just curl up and go to sleep, and he remembers that angels don’t need to sleep and how in hell, or in Heaven he supposes actually, do angel Moms cope?  ‘cause they’re into everything, and they don’t sit still, and they’re pulling and clambering all over the seat and him, and the floor well and flapping their damn wings which tickle! 

Somewhere in all that he manages to get rid of most of the oversized clothes that they keep tripping over, but Cas gets to keep his trenchcoat, ‘cause even as a toddler Dean reckons it’s weird to see him without it, and Gabe can keep Dean’s shirt now it’s absolutely covered in goo anyway.  But that’s only filled up half the journey and…Dean looks at his watch...there’s still 13 hours to go before they turn back to themselves.  Crap.

Back at the motel, things are looking up.  After all, whatever they do here, it’s mostly not Dean’s stuff; it’s someone else’s stuff and he’s much cooler with that.  Only Sam keeps looking at them like they’re some sort of alien life form and Dean’s not sure if that’s because they’re Gabe and Cas, and that’s just weird, or if it’s because they’re kids.  He’s got a strong suspicion it’s the latter.  Especially when Sam tries to engage them in conversation about angel breeding habits and contraception and family planning and it’s fairly clear he has absolutely no idea how to interact with kids.

They all look at him, Dean included, for about 5 seconds as if he’s mad, before Gabe and Cas carry on where they left off playing trampoline on the bed.  Which isn’t working that well ‘cause those motel beds aren’t known for their bouncibility, but they don’t seem to mind. 

Dean puts on the TV to distract them before one of them falls off ‘cause he’s not sure if angel toddlers can heal themselves or not, and plonks them in front of Dr. Sexy MD because those soaps never did him any harm growing up.  He’s a completely normal, well-adjusted individual.  Ask anyone.  Preferably ask someone who doesn’t know him very well.

Sam’s still looking at them as if they’re aliens when he asks Dean, “d’you think we should feed them?  Do you think they eat?”

“They’re still angels.  They don’t need to eat.”

 “Maybe something to eat would cheer them up?”

“I am not feeding them.”

“Why not?” Sam asks, and he’s looking at Dean as if he’s some sort of monster, which Dean takes exception to , because he’s not doing it to be mean, and he’s not feeding them because he has all of their long-term best interests at heart but he’s obviously going to have to explain that to his ignorant little brother.

“Because, Sam, what goes in has to come out and I’m not, in any kinda weird universe, anywhere, ever, changing Cas’ or Gabe’s diaper.”  Sam raises an eyebrow as he gets it.  Dean smirks because he’s even managed to get him to blush.

Dean looks at his watch…12 hours...but at the moment that’s not a problem ‘cause they’re quiet watching the TV so 12 hours should be a doddle.  Right up until the time when it isn’t.

 “Gabill.  Gabill”, Cas shrills loudly as he sort-of half-flies past Dean’s head in a flurry of feathers and trenchcoat, waving his prize of stolen lollipop.  Dean tries to grab his ankle as he whizzes past, but misses, ‘cause he’s amazingly fast, and he falls off his chair and it’s only by chance that he snags Gabriel by holding onto the hem of his shirt…Dean’s shirt, not that he’s bitter about that at all…pulling him in wriggling against his chest so at least they’ve only got one angel flying round the room, knocking over lamps and toiletries and billowing Sam’s research paper like confetti.  But then this is all Sam’s fault.

Hell, he hadn’t even thought they might be able to fly yet with those wings ‘cause they were just sort of there, and not doing much except getting in the way up till now.  Dean instigates a ‘no flying’ rule for the rest of the day.  “You two are grounded!”  Dean’s fairly sure Sam mutters something sulky about parents who can’t control their children as he picks up his fallen papers. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean looks up absolutely dreading what he’ll find when he hears Cas starting to snivel.  They’ve been quiet for a little while, he’s not sure what they’ve been doing, but they’ve been _quiet_ and it’s (mostly) not his stuff, so he doesn’t care.  He looks at his watch…10 hours.  When he sees what’s going on though he has a fair amount of sympathy with the sniveling.  Gabe is sitting, smug as anything, waving a handful of small black feathers.  So at least now Dean knows Gabriel’s been a pain in the ass for the whole of his existence, not just come to it recently.  “Jeez, Gabe.  5 minutes?  Can’t I have 5 minutes peace?”  He gets up and picking up little Cas to balance him in one arm, takes the feathers from Gabe in the other hand.  “Don’t pull your brother’s feathers out of his wings.  It’s not nice.”   And that’s one sentence Dean never thought he’d hear himself say, ever.

Gabe sits for a full 5 seconds before he bawls.  Crap.  Cas is a bit snivelly but Jeez, Gabe can bawl like a banshee, and Dean’s just glad it’s not in his angel voice.  But the look on Gabe’s face is so pitiful Dean feels like an ass for yelling at him, after all, he does kinda remind him of himself when he was that age so he tucks the feathers into his shirt pocket and reaches down with his other hand to haul Gabe to his feet, taking both kids across to sit with him on the bed.

“Can’t you read to them or something, Dean?” Sam asks with a seriously disgruntled face as a result of all the noise that’s going on, so Dean feels obliged to point out, once again, it’s all Sam’s _fault_.  Though actually maybe reading to them is a good idea so Dean sees what he can find lying around to read.

“I’ve got Busty Asian Beauties.  Though they do have good stories in that sometimes…”  Dean ponders briefly and optimistically, but decides even if he’s more than happy to debauch an adult Cas, and grown-up Gabe has probably read them all anyway, he can’t quite shake the totally illogical idea that if he reads that stuff to them when they’re kids, he’ll ruin them for life.  And his brain hurts when he tries to work out if that’s true or not, so he stops trying. 

Instead, he picks up the free motel bible and waves it at Sam, grinning and proud at his choice of reading material, before finding a random chapter, and pulling the kids in close, starts reading.  Dean’s got a good, strong, story-telling voice, even if he says so himself.  “Behold, he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him…”  He stops when Sam gasps and starts making strangled noises, because for heaven’s sake, he’s just trying to read, and looks up to give Sam a piece of his mind to find Sam making throat slashing motions and waving his other arm around, all of which, in Sam’s subtle body language adds up to ‘STOP!’.

“What, Sam?” and Sam can suck it up if he sounds irritated, because, seriously, he’s getting there.

“You can’t read them that!”

“Why not?”  to be honest all that old language makes no sense to Dean anyway and he’s fairly sure that it won’t to little kids either.  Even little heavenly kids.  Although he hasn’t seen much of the heavenly bit yet.  Unless you count the flying.  But that’s less heavenly and more … he realizes he’s rambling instead of listening to Sam which he probably should be doing.

“It’s the Book of Revelation, you ass.”  Sam hisses, as if he’s trying to be quiet, but it’s not as if hissing makes him quiet and Dean thought Sam was supposed to be the smart one, and they can hear him anyway, but then Sam mouths silently, “the Apocalypse.” Oh.  The _Apocalypse_.  Ah, yes, maybe not a great idea.  He flicks through the pages, and raises an eyebrow at Sam as he starts reading again “As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. ‘Come, follow me,’ Jesus said, ‘and I will send you out to fish for people.’ At once they left their nets and followed him.”  Sam huffs and turns back to his laptop so he figures it’s okay, to carry on, that it’s not going to come to a scary bit soon. 

It’s not long before they’re bored though, even if they’re not scared.  Okay, maybe not Gabe and Cas, maybe it’s all Dean, but what with Dean fidgeting, Gabe is starting to whisper “SamSamSamSamSamSam…” in the most annoying possible way, and Cas has climbed onto Dean’s lap and snuggled in and when his little thumb goes into his mouth and his little finger starts stroking the end of his nose, Dean checks Sam isn’t watching and hugs him in all cozy, because seriously, how cute is that?  He briefly wonders if he can get hold of the witch and ask if he can keep Cas this way for ever because he’s absolutely frigging adorable like this and the grown-up version can be a real pain in the ass.  But then he remembers the flying and the sniveling and the no sleeping.  Okay, maybe a few hours is enough.  He looks at his watch…6 hours.

A muffled squeak and a loud yell of “Gabe!” from across the room interrupts his wandering thoughts.  Cas get’s plonked on the bed unceremoniously as Dean makes a mad dash across the room to rescue Gabe from Sam, who’s trying to remove a lollipop stick from between the keys on his laptop.   Gabe has miraculously, literally, managed to magic another lollipop out of thin air and is sucking on it while hiding under the table.  By the time Dean’s got Gabe out with promises of all sorts of things he has no intention of living up to, Sam has calmed down, but Dean feels obligated to remind him that this is all his fault, at which, Sam predictably turns and scowls.  His face slowly turns from a scowl to an amused snigger as he’s looking over Dean’s shoulder.

Hell, he’d thought Cas was quiet.  That was a good t-shirt too, and now it’s all covered in angel slobber…but he does look adorable cuddling Dean’s t-shirt, sucking his thumb…no!  stop it!  Crap.  Stop. Thinking. That.  “Sam, I’m going out.”

“Oh no you don’t.  You’re not leaving me with those two.  Cas starts sniveling as soon as you get out of sight and Gabe plays up for me.  You know he does.”

“I’ve got to get some fresh air.  I could take them with me.”

“Dude, they’ve got wings!  Someone’s going to notice.”

“I can pretend they’re playing dress-up.  Are you coming?”

“No man.  Absolutely not.  Research.”

“Yeah, right!  _Research._ ”  Dean knows what that means.  It means Sam’s a lazy, inconsiderate bastard that’s not going to come and help.  Fair enough.  Dean can handle two small kids.  “Come on kids, let’s be having you.”

An hour later, Dean’s back, flustered, and disheveled, leaves in his hair, mud on his jeans, Cas clinging to him like a life-raft and Gabe’s wing ruffled down one side.

Sam looks up, alarmed.  “What happened?”

“The little dudes can fly!  Like, properly fly, not just hopping around the room fly!  Only they’re like damned cats – they can get up the tree easily enough but they can’t get down.”

“Tree?”

“Yeah, a huge frigging tree.  Seriously, 100 meters tall.”  Okay, it might not have been a 100 meters tall, but it had damned well felt that way when he’d had to climb up the stupid thing to collect the two angels.  Gabe had pranced around on one of the big branches as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and Cas had been shit-scared of the height, crying for Dean, his eyes screwed shut, clinging to a smaller branch with his arms, legs and his wings wrapped so tight, Dean had almost had to prize him off one digit or feather at a time.     And he’d finally got Cas to transfer his limpet impression to him instead of the tree, grabbed Gabe, who was giving him a frigging heart attack with all the bouncing up and down 100 meters; okay, maybe 50; oh, all right then 20 meters up the tree. 

And Dean had quickly decided going out for some fresh air had been a really bad idea.  He hadn’t even stopped for pie on the way home, he’d been so freaked out.

Sam’s smirking when he turns back to his supposed research.  Seriously did Sam think Dean couldn’t see his shoulders shaking, trying not to laugh; it’s like he’s sitting in his own little earthquake.  This is so not funny.  The looks he’d got from the strange homeless guy that was hanging around.  It’s a good job no-one ever believes strange homeless guys.

Dean looks at his watch…3 hours…Jeez, and to think he thought he wanted a family…well, maybe Cas  ‘cause he’s kinda cute…no. Stop. Thinking. That.

“Give me some of that research paper and pens.”  Dean grumbles, grabbing a handful from Sam, who’s looking at his own watch.  Dean feels obliged to point out like the good older brother he is that this is _all_ Sam’s fault.  Again.  Cas and Gabe get the paper and pens and Dean tries not to think about how long that isn’t going to keep them occupied for, and what the hell he’s going to do with them after that.  But it is keeping them quiet for the moment so Dean crosses his fingers and almost prays till he remembers the only person he prays to is Castiel.  Who is here.  Well, sort of.

“What you drawing, Cas?  Oh, that’s nice.  What is it?”

“Sig” says little Cas proudly, waving his paper at Dean.

“Sig?  Oh, Sigil.  Yeah I can see that.”  Hang on a minute…sigil, that can’t be anything this side of good, can it.  “Um, Cas, what does it do? Crap, what’s that?”

Lightening hits the TV, just before the thunder roars and the heavens, which are now in the motel room, open up to pour torrential rain in a two square meter radius, sending sparks through the electrical equipment, soaking the carpets and soaking one of the beds; the one that Dean has now, just this minute decided is Sam’s.  Luckily it stops two minutes later and a drenched Cas and Gabe, both suddenly sprout multi-colored gumboots and are splashing around making the soaking carpet send up a spray of dusty water from years of ineffective cleaning.  And that is just gross, even in Dean’s book of housekeeping.  Sam’s making lots of complaining noises even though his laptop survived, he wants to make it clear that had his laptop not survived, they’d have been up shit creek without a proverbial paddle, so Dean feels obliged, yet again…well, you know, right?

Dean looks at his watch …one hour.  He lies down on the one dry bed and hides his head under the pillow to wait, ‘cause after all, what can they possibly get up to in an hour.  Yeah, right.  So he’s fairly surprised when two little bodies climb up beside him.  Little Cas curls up, his wings a little loose around him, and snuggles up against Dean, tickling him slightly with his feathers.  Gabe lies down on the other side of Cas, facing him, one wing lying over them both, the usual sticky fingers curled into one corner of the blanket and Dean takes his head out from under the pillow to stare at the angels and to glare at Sam who is going to wipe that damn smirk off his face, or Dean will come and do it for him. Dean wraps an arm self-consciously over both little angels and dozes off, warm and content and the kids are quiet and happy.

Dean misses the midnight deadline and when he wakes early the next morning, Cas and Gabe are gone and Sam is asleep on the room’s other bed, which is now dry.  Looking around he notices that the mess from the past 12 or so hours is all tidied up too; Cas, he’s willing to put money on, did that.  Gabriel wouldn’t have seen the point.  Dean stretches, relieved and never wants to do that again (next time they kill the witch and talk later) and he texts Cas.

 _Dean:_ ‘R U Okay?’

 _Cas:_ ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ 

Cas is a polite texter.  Dean grins and he really, really hopes Cas turns up soon.  He wants to know what he remembers and he’s bursting to wind him up about it.  For some reason, he suspects they might not see Gabriel any time soon.  He can dish it out but he can’t take it.

Dean goes to the laptop to check his email.  There’s only one new one.  From Sam.  Okay, that was weird, ‘cause Sam’s right there and can talk to him.  But it turns out it’s gone to a few people, so maybe that’s fair enough.  And it has a photo attached.  And it’s a photo of…oh, crap...it’s a photo of…Dean looks to see who Sam sent it to.  The bastard has sent it to everyone they know.  He scans the mail list – Bobby, Jo, Ellen, … Cas?  Cas has a frigging email account?  Hey, hang on just a frigging minute…if Cas has an email account how come he never gets any emails from Cas?  Shit.  Did he just think that?  He’s turning into a frigging girl.

Dean deletes the email.  So what if everyone else now has a photo of Dean lying on a motel bed snuggling up with fully-grown, though slightly alarmed looking, Castiel and Gabriel.  He doesn’t have to have it.  He is going to kill his little brother.  Though given that Cas also has a copy and is probably mortified, if the look on his face in the photo is anything to go by, he’ll probably smite Sam first, so Dean may get away with not having to kill Sam.  Which would be a shame because he’d really enjoy it.

_Epilogue_

Dean’s just starting to wonder if Cas will ever show up again or whether he’s run out on them in embarrassment (and he knows now that the decision about the diapers was absolutely the right one) when the flutter of wings announces Cas’ arrival, sitting at the table opposite Dean.

“Hello, Dean.”  Cas is serious, all business, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes.  Which Dean is fairly sure means he remembers a hell of a lot.  Oh, this is going to be good, so he does that weird magnet thing with his eyes that gets Cas to look at him, and he looks shifty and Dean is going to enjoy this.

“Hi, Cas.  You okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

“Gabriel okay?”  Dean can play all innocent, he really can.  He can even keep a straight face when the payoff’s going to be worth it.  And Castiel is fidgeting so damn much it is so going to be worth it.

“I haven’t had occasion to spend time with him.  I assume so.” 

“So, Cas, I’ve got something for you.”

“What?” Cas asks with a hint of suspicion.

Dean goes across to the bed and holding something behind his back returns and sits at the table.  Cas doesn’t say anything just looks even more suspicious.  Dean brings his hand round full of green, crumpled cotton “you left so fast last week you forgot your security blanket.” 

God, Dean wishes he had Sam’s camera now.  The look on Cas’ face is priceless and he can’t help laughing, which just makes Cas even smitier and Dean’s fairly sure he’s going to zap out of there but he doesn’t.   Excellent.

“It’s not amusing.”

“No, probably not.”  Dean slyly moves his thumb up to his mouth and sticks it in, pulling his hand into a loose fist, stroking the end of his nose softly with his forefinger.

Castiel glares at him and disappears.

Dean hasn’t laughed this hard in god knows how long.  Oh, boy.  He is going to have months of fun with this one.  Maybe talking to the witch was a good idea after all.  Not that he’ll ever tell Sam that of course.

\--The End--

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> written for the spn-reversebang 2012 challenge at livejournal to [**chef_geekier**](http://chef-geekier.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful art.


End file.
